


A Dragon's Lot

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 15:07:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16621307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: It was tradition.  On the six-month anniversary in their eighth year, each child of the Clan would venture out on their Spirit Quest, discover who and what they were expected to be.  For some, it would be nothing terribly complicated, just some gentle guidance and encouragement, nothing that indicated any great change in their lives; after all, from a very early age most of the Clan Walked as Wolf or one of the Panthera; some Flew as Owl or Hawk, some very few Swam as Dolphin or other sea creatures, and that rarely changed. Still, for even fewer, no more than a scant handful from each generation, the Spirit Quest would bring about a change that no one could foresee.  For Meghada O'Donnell, her Spirit Quest was one that was about to change her life forever.  Her life, and the lives of many others, including Craig Garrison and the cons under his command.





	1. This I Can Promise You, It Will NOT Be Boring!

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place over a span of time. Chapter One takes place many years before the war, Chapter Two during the war, Chapter Three post-war.
> 
> Due to that time line, Garrison and the guys appear first in Chapter Two.
> 
> Clan-centric, obviously.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meghada O'Donnell. So named at her birth, a name she expected to carry for the remainder of her life. Now, at the time of her Spirit Quest, she found that was only part of the truth.

The ceremony was as old as the Clan itself; the words spoken were the same words spoken since Sweet Mother Erdu had looked upon the Clan with favor, recognized them as kindred, had gifted them with her blessing and her instructions. And while the articles laid out at Meghada's feet were specific to her own quest, they were not unlike those sent with all who had gone before. A canteen of water. A well-honed knife. A pouch with flint and tinder. She was dressed in trousers and shirt, moccasin boots on her feet reaching to just below her knees, hair coiled tightly against her head. She had not seen or spoken with her family for the past two weeks while she'd been in ritual preparation for her quest; had not seen them in the group ranging behind her, but she knew they were there, sending their love and support to her without a word.

Silently she bowed to the Elder who stood before her, received the blessings of the Clan, and walked away to where her guide waited. Silently she went over it all one last time in her mind, all she'd been told, the instructions she'd been given, then set it all firmly aside. From now on, she was to focus on survival, and letting herself open to the Sweet Mother's approach, in order to receive the knowledge she would need to fulfill her destiny.

Now, a full seven days later, she sat, breathing, trying to wrap her mind around what she thought she'd just been told. Part of her questioned whether she had heard right, but somehow, asking the radiant form in front of her, "uh, are you SURE???" just didn't seem appropriate. Or polite. Not that she was usually overly polite, but still. 

The tall female dressed in traditional Clan attire, flowing ribbons adorning her headpiece and the fan she carried, smiled in wry amusement, knowing quite well what the girl was thinking. "Don't worry, child. I will never be far away, and will undertake to drop a subtle hint now and again, if I think you are going too far afield from where your destiny lies. Well, as much as I do subtle," that getting a chuckle from the girl, having more than a little knowledge about such things. There was more than one reason the Sweet Mother had 'adopted' the Clan, after all! 

"There will be those who will offer to help guide you. Do not refuse such offers too quickly; some will be of considerable use in your endeavors. However, you must take care to be sure their proffered advice is such that will benefit your true purpose, not let yourself be used for anyone else's purpose. Your resolve must be strong. Your way is not an easy one; there will be difficulties and more than your share of challenges, but it might possibly have its rewards. And, this I can promise you, it will NOT be boring, not for the most part! And for someone like you, I think that alone will make up for a lot of the shortcomings." 

"Now, arise, walk to the edge of the lake and let yourself understand what you truly are, what you were born to be."

And Meghada did that, letting her clothes drop to one side, stretched her arms to the sky above, and opened herself to the power and felt herself start to Change. She shuddered when the process was finished; it had felt so strange compared to her usual Change to a small brindled red wolf. She opened her eyes and looked down into the clear water, and gulped. Quietly she whispered to herself, since the Sweet Mother was no longer in sight, "my parents are NOT going to believe this!"

But believe her they did, especially when she displayed her emerald and gold and turquoise scales, those bat-like wings, and all the rest. Lupan stood looking at their fourth child and sighed, "a Dragan. Well, you know, somehow, I'm just not that surprised." 

While Lupan was resignedly accepting the reality of their daughter, Felane, the ru Dragan's mother was rapidly reviewing all she had ever heard, read, studied about the ru Dragan; there had been a plethora of stories, of course, but none told from the family's point of view. Somehow she had a feeling she was headed into uncharted waters, and felt uncertain of her abilities, for perhaps the first time in her life.

In a castle far away, in the Clan enclave called simply 'Homeland', the Grandmother heard the news and laughed with joy. So few of the big flyers were given to the Clan anymore; good things would be happening with this child, she was sure of that.

"The Sweet Mother's blessings on her!"

 

Two years later: 

They'd been quarrelling for awhile, and the quarrelling had led to actual fighting, and alternating claims over the rights and wrongs of it had been surprisingly fierce. Those of the Clan rarely let themselves become so impassioned in conflict WITHIN the Clan; they usually reserved that for the Outlanders. Everyone thought it was exceedingly odd, and everyone agreed an Arbitor was needed. The problem was, no one wanted to get in the middle of the increasingly vitrolic exchange. 

Finally, the message had come from the Grandmother, to gather all the parties who had a claim or a grievance in one place; to gather all those who would serve as Fair Witness as well; and then, to wait for the one who would arbitrate this totally unacceptable situation.

Questions put to her didn't get many answers. Well, the Grandmother rarely was forthcoming with the reasons behind her dictates. There were those who considered it mere indifference to irrelevancies. Felane often thought she did it just to piss everyone off, and she was as much right as anyone else. Actually, in this case, the Grandmother was as much in the dark as anyone, only acting on what a dream from the Sweet Mother had instructed her to do.

Lupan hadn't been overly thrilled to have the combatants arrive at their homestead, spouting arguments and quarrels and far too much attitude for his liking, nor the many who would bear witness. Still, he was reportable to the Grandmother, like they all were, so he allowed them all to gather in the far pasture currently being allowed to go fallow. 

He and Felane stood among the witnesses, waiting, rather impatiently, for the Arbitor, for this nonsense to be over and done so he could go back to working with that new litter of wolfhound pups. He hadn't been thrilled before; seeing his ten year old daughter walk confidently into the center ring of stones, reserved for the unnamed Arbitor, didn't help his mood one little bit. 

He took a closer look, and a cold chill went up and down his spine. {"That's not Meghada, not really,"} and the icy voice that was heard coming from those child-like lips only validated his thoughts. The voice was NOT that of a child.

"I had not thought to see those of the Clan acting like drink-blinded fools. It is an unpleasant sight to my eyes, I have no hesitation in telling you." 

One, Quentin, an elder cousin well acquainted with the family had thought to protest, "Meghada, child, what are you doing here? This is not a place for you, not a place for your voice to be heard," only to have the girl turn her head slowly in his direction, glittery gold-brown eyes catching everyone's eye, making more than a few shudder at the sight. 

"Meghada? You speak wrongly, Quentin O'Donnell; Medara I am called, Medara ru Dragan."

And the whispers raced around the field - Medara ru Dragan, the infamous Red Duchess of Clan legend, wielder of justice, arbitor of Clan law and rights and responsibilities. 

And those who had the quarrel came forth, presented their arguments, heated with anger at their Clan brothers and Clan sisters. Her face remained impassive, and when she'd heard them out, she questioned, "and where is he, the tall man who brought you to this end? You, Charel, you bade him welcome at your table, listened to his whispers, took his gift. Give it to me, the neckchain he gave you as a guesting gift."

Charel looked at her, wondering, then slowly reached under his shirt to bring forth a gold and silver chain, handing it to her with more than a little reluctance; it seemed to protest as it left his hand. 

She nodded, and turned her attention to the other side. "And you, Delia. The man with the silver hair and seductive smiles, the one who gave you that little trinket you keep in your pocket, where is he? Give it to me, his affection token," and Delia, with a deep flush, reached into her pocket and brought forth the cunning gold and silver chatelaine that rested there. The girl in front of them accepted it solemnly, and held the two up so all could see.

"Is this all it takes, my people? A mischief-maker from Elsewhere, speaking fair words and smiling pretty smiles and giving sweet gifts? Is this all it takes to have you at each others' throats??? You were taught better than this!!!" Her face was no longer impassive, but furious, and even Felane and Lupan felt the tremor inside. No, this was not their daughter, but the Red Duchess, certainly.

And she took the two tokens and hurled them to the ground, where a great fire consumed them. Her words were stern as she gave her decree, made her demands, and none thought to question her, her decision or her right to make that decision. 

It was a much more humble and subdued crowd that departed than had arrived; even those who had come only to act as Fair Witness had little to say. 

Lupan and Felane watched as the last of them drove away, and together they re-entered their house. They made their way quietly to Meghada's room, to see their fully-clothed daughter draped across her bed, half on, half off. Lupan moved to straighten her into a more comfortable position, and she awoke.

"Father? I had the oddest dream, about the Red Duchess," yawning widely, though her eyelids couldn't quite bring themselves to fully open. "Do you think it means something?" 

He swallowed, looked at Felane helplessly, and answered, "we'll not worry about it tonight, Meghada. Go back to sleep now."

And in the morning, over a hearty breakfast, she told them of her dream, "just like she's described in the books; I recognized her right away. It was the oddest thing. She said she needed to ask a favor of me. Wasn't that the most foolish thing? Why would the Red Duchess need a favor from ME? But, I couldn't tell her no, of course. She IS the Red Duchess!!! I just wish I could remember what the favor was she'd asked!"

 

Following in Rapid Succession:

Her temper, never the most equitable, had become more intense. Her patience, never her most outstanding feature, was almost non-existent. And her urge for justice, for defending those less able to defend themselves? There were those who remembered that arbitration, and the whispers started, that the Red Duchess had been reborn in Felane and Lupan's fourth child. 

It hadn't helped matters when she'd been practicing her tracking in the cliffs above the eastern horse pasture and caught sight of the prospective horse thieves; her reaction was quick and fierce, and gained her one of the horses the leader had ridden, a tall rangy red mare looking so like the pictures in the archives, the ones showing Medara ru Dragan on her red war mare. The sight of the girl, tunic clad, holding a boar spear, atop the mare, didn't cause the whispers to lessen.

The next couple of incidents had led to two summer visitors running shrieking for their lives, and it was as if set in stone. Meghada paid little heed to the talk; she had other things to do with her time, though she really wished something INTERESTING would come her way. She didn't handle boredom well, and increasingly that was what seemed to be her lot, despite the promise from the Sweet Mother that it would be otherwise.

A chance visit from one of Felane's old friends, Gabrielle Lucien, proved a turning point, however, and Felane's 'wild child' settled down, at least enough her parents thought she might survive to reach her teens. Sweet Mother Erdu alone know what might come then; they could only watch, guide, help as best they could, and pray for the Sweet Mother to look after her.


	2. Do I LOOK Like A Grandmother To You???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She felt she had quite enough on her plate. There was a war on, and between her work for the Allies, trying to help Garrison and his men, dealing with her ever-increasingly complicated private life, and just general daily activities, she was kept quite busy. Enough she didn't have time or patience for fools, even Clan fools, especially when those fools took it upon themselves to disrespect Craig Garrison and Goniff. It was a mistake they were unlikely to make again.
> 
> During the war.

It had been obvious to Felane and Lupan that the Grandmother had an eye on their fourth child, and not just the usual apprehensive and cautious eye that most sensible people had around the volatile and unpredictable child. No, they thought the woman was sizing up Meghada ru Dragan as a possible 'Grandmother-in-training'. 

And that made sense in a lot of ways. The Grandmother of Clan O'Donnell was always one of the most powerful ones; usually, in fact almost always, one of the winged ones. She was never one of the Wolf or Panthera types, the most numerous of their people, which really cut down on the candidates for the job, though you might have thought one of the Owls might have been chosen for their wisdom if not for their strength. Unfortunately, that linking of the Owl to the concept of wisdom was a commonly-held fallacy; after all, Gieldan was an Owl, and a more foolish man Felane had never met (at least, among the Clan; among the Outlanders he probably would have been considered tolerably bright, but then, their standards weren't nearly as high.)

So, Meghada, as a ru Dragan, would be a good choice in some ways. She certainly had the fire and the resolution and the strong, even compelling desire to see justice served. But neither parent offered any encouragement to their imperious leader; it was a hard life in many respects, being the leader of the Clan, with overwhelming responsibilities. And while the Grandmother might (and generally did) take a Consort (or two or three or more, being as hot-blooded as the rest of the Clanswomen), she never Bonded. 

Well, how could she? It would put the Clan at too much risk; a Bondmate followed after, when the other traveled to the next Turn of the Wheel, and this was an uncertain life. To leave the Clan without leadership without warning, without someone to take her place? No, it wasn't done, couldn't be allowed.

And while Felane and Lupan knew that it was rare for one of the Dragan to Bond, still, they wanted Meghada to have the faint chance that might exist, to know and experience what THEY had between them.

Well, the Grandmother hadn't given up; that wasn't in her nature. Twice she'd approached Meghada, once when the young woman was twelve, the next time when she was sixteen. Both times Meghada had considered carefully and earnestly, but in the end, respectfully declined. 

'Respectfully', both because she DID respect the Grandmother, both the position and the woman, and because no one with any sense DISrespected the Grandmother. The woman was reputed to be the daughter of a Clanswoman who Walked as Banshee and her elusive mate, a Clan Friend who was also a lake kelpie, and she supposedly had inherited traits from both parents. Hyperbole, perhaps, but those very, very few who'd seen her Changed shape didn't argue against the possibility. Her rather legendary temper did nothing to diffuse the rumors either. She had a shriek that could carry from one corner of the castle to the other!

But the declining was as sincere as the respect; Meghada wasn't sure what the future might hold, but her spirit quest had left her perhaps more sensitive to the guidance from Mother Erdu than usual. That had only been enhanced when she'd been Chosen to mediate that Clan dispute as the avatar of the Red Duchess. Afterwards, it was as if she could FEEL herself being urged in one direction or another, as when she'd settled on that cottage in Brandonshire against all logic and reason and prior intention. No, wherever her destiny lay, it wasn't in the castle at Homeland, not in the suite of the Grandmother.

Finally it seemed the Grandmother had accepted her refusal, though always ready to twit her about it whenever the opportunity arose. But the Grandmother had not chosen anyone ELSE to follow her, either, and that made some members of the Clan more uneasy as the Grandmother approached, then entered her nineties. That was one of the problems with having one of the strongest lead, especially when she was of a unique bloodline. No one knew whether the Grandmother would live to be a hundred, or perhaps much longer, (history told of one who'd held the position for three hundred years and more), and the Clan had never been without a Grandmother and didn't want to try it now. 

The approach had been made discreetly (or so they thought), the three representatives of the clique appearing at the Cottage unannounced and (to Meghada's mind) overly-confident of their welcome. Meghada had offered them coffee at the garden table, politely (well, okay, so it wasn't so polite) ignoring Lerane's suggestion that inside might be better. After all, if Meghada got pissed off enough to Change, she didn't want to ruin the whole inside of the Cottage, and there was the distinct possibility that just might happen. She really didn't want to get blood on that new plush rug! It was living up to her expectations so nicely; she kept forgetting about the possibility of rug burn til the following morning, and that new rug was so very soft!

"No." Meghada spoke the word firmly, impassively.

Lerane, Decshoran, and Jesson waited, but with a puzzled look at each other, realized there was no more forthcoming. "No? Just that, nothing else?" Jesson asked, frowning with bewilderment, thinking their promise of strong support, their encouragement, whatever she felt she needed from them in order to offer her services to the Grandmother and to the Clan certainly deserved more than just one word. Particularly THAT word, spoken so flatly. 

"Well, you're welcome to another cup of coffee before you leave, if you like," Meghada offered, "but I've dinner guests coming, things to do and haven't time nor patience for discussing such foolishness. I'd suggest you leave the Grandmother to handle her own business; she does it quite well and likely doesn't need you dipping your fingers in. In fact, you might find yourself missing a few fingers by doing that. You most assuredly would if I were in her place, which thankfully I am not nor ever intend to be." She sipped at the hot coffee she'd just used to top off her cup. She had no intention of continuing the conversation, either, of giving them reasons that would only start them off on new and probably more annoying arguments. 

The sudden appearance of both Craig and Goniff coming through the garden gate took the tension in a different direction. She'd risen to greet them warmly, and then made introductions. The two from the Mansion were polite but uncomfortable and seemingly in a hurry; that was obvious. The three visitors were appraisingly aloof, going through the bare motions of being polite, though talking quietly and urgently among themselves when Meghada and the two men went into the kitchen for that private conversation Craig had signaled they needed.

"We just stopped by to say goodbye before we head out; just got the call moving everything up a couple of days. I know you were expecting all of us for dinner tonight; I'm sorry," Craig Garrison told her with a rueful shake of his head.

Goniff snorted, "ei, 'E'S sorry! Shoulda told Richards we'd be up tomorrow, Craig! 'Gaida told me w'at she 'ad in mind for tonight, and it's just not right to 'ave to pass on all that! The dinner and" with a sly smile at the two of them, "everything else that might follow!" 

Meghada laughed as Goniff wiggled his eyebrows expressively, "well, I'll make sure to have all that in place for when you come home, lads. The dinner AND everything else!"

Goniff glanced toward the garden, his face serious once again, "they making trouble for you, luv? Don't seem you're all that 'appy they've come visiting. Clan, aren't they? They 'ave that look." 

She snorted, "Clan, yes, and idiots, all three of them! Yes, I'll admit we have our share in the Clan; oh, usually they're sensible enough, but sometimes they get a bee in their bonnet and come up with the oddest things! Never you mind, I'll deal with them well enough. You focus on keeping each other safe and coming home in one piece!" 

A few expressions of warm affection were being exchanged when there was a knock on the door, and the door opened to show an impatient Decshoran. 

"Meghada? Have you forgotten we were having a discussion?" He didn't even bother to hide his look of disapproval at the sight of Meghada encircled by those tight arms. 

"Get out!" Meghada snarled, with a more-than-evident hiss in her voice, and Decshoran took a few quick steps backwards, easing the door shut behind him.

"No, we have to leave, Meghada; the guys are waiting in the jeep." And with one final kiss from each of them, they were out and gone, and Meghada reached into the cupboard and took one very long drink of bourbon. She was going to need all the help she could get to stay on top of her temper; frankly, she wasn't sure she had enough bourbon in the house for that little chore. Taking a deep breath, she started toward the door, then paused, walking back to pick up the bottle. She had a feeling she would be needing it; if nothing else, she could use it to bash those three upside their heads!

Reaching for the door handle yet again, she had an even better idea. It took only three or four minutes, then she was back at the door, this time with a much more genuine smile on her face. As she passed through, moved to join the three waiting at the garden table, she could tell her 'cousins' (as pretty much all Clan members were called, if they weren't immediate family or a direct aunt or uncle or something like that) thought her change in mood was reason for them to feel encouraged. Well, like she'd told Craig and Goniff, even some of the Clan could be idiots sometimes.

She'd possessed herself in patience, as Gabrielle had taught her when she was only ten. "Think of it as a shield, Meghada, built of wood and metal and well-cured leather, something to place between you and your opponent, til the right opportunity comes to attack," Gabrielle had told her. "Or perhaps a cloak of illusion, shielding your true intentions until it's time to pull the con." Meghada had found that to be sound advice over the years.

She waited and listened while they talked of the benefits to her, the respect and honor of the position; listened while they reminded her of the castle at Homeland, the rich tradition of all the Clan was and had been throughout the centuries. Her patience had started to fray when they reminded her that she did not have to give up warmth, passion; that the Grandmothers, past and present, had never seen the need for doing without that comfort. By the time they started offering likely candidates for Consort, including Lerane himself (him being the youngest of the three), and Jesson's oldest son, Mathieu, she was picturing her patience as something resembling guipure lace made of inferior thread. 

"I have a Bond mate, cousins. Grandmothers do NOT; surely you remember that. Actually, I have a Bond mate AND a Consort, and am well content with both." Actually the Consort part was debatable; it rather depended on how you looked at things, but she certainly didn't intend to delve into the intricacies of the Cottage relationships with these meddlers.

Decshoran actually had the temerity to sneer, "Outlanders, Meghada. They are both Outlanders. That hardly merits . . ." 

It was perhaps fortunate for him that the chime sounded before he could finish that sentence, as her patience had turned from thin lace to a wisp of smoke, hanging in the air for only a moment before disappearing entirely. 

Meghada rose without a word, her face stony with anger, and went to respond to the incoming radio call. Within minutes she had returned, as imperious and gracious as a queen. "Cousins, that call is for you. Here, let me show you the way," and led them into the pantry area where the radio set was concealed in a drop-down panel. "I'll leave you to your conversation," she said and closing the door behind her, removed herself to the sitting room. 

"IDIOTS!!!" 

Lerane heard the crisp voice issuing forth from the radio and went pale. He whispered, looking at the other two, wild-eyed, "she called the Grandmother??! I can't believe it; she actually called the Grandmother!" 

That voice, crisp and impatient and highly exasperated, answered that whisper, though it had not been meant for her ears. "Yes, Lerane, she actually did! Of the four of you, she is the only one who appears to have the proper respect, along with any common sense. Now, just so you have no doubts about how I view your actions, let me explain . . .!!!!!"

Of course, to one of the ru Dragan, the conversation, all parts of it, were as audible as if she had remained in that small area. Still, it would serve no purpose to have them receive that remarkable dressing-down right in front of her. Oh, and it was remarkable!! The Grandmother had been more than a little annoyed, at any number of things, and had been quite eloquent in her desire to make that perfectly clear to the three Clan members.

She was sitting, sipping at a self-congratulatory drink, when they emerged, shaken, and faced her. She didn't invite them to sit, and when Jesson had started to do just that, a snarl and hard glare made him change his mind rapidly.

"Yes, well . . . We will be leaving, Meghada. Thank you for your hospitality." 

An icy raised eyebrow was his only answer. He hastened to add, "oh, and of course, we offer our apologies for misunderstanding the situation and for having caused any offense. We meant no harm. Certainly no . . disrespect . .for . . you . . . . .and . . . .yours."

His voice had slowed and faltered as the young woman stood, slowly, cocked her head to one side like a great bird of prey, glittering gold-brown eyes whirling in rapid patterns, reached out her hand to each of them, one after the other, touching their cheek, stroking lightly, moving down to the area right above their jugular. Their expressions went from embarrassed discomfort to something quite different, seeing, feeling those long, extremely sharp claws bearing down with just enough pressure to break the skin, drawing just a thin line of blood at each point of contact. They stood silent, unmoving, knowing better than to move, watching those eyes, knowing it would take no effort at all on her part to do that and much more. Not many of them could do that, Change just one part of their body instead of the whole, only the most powerful ones. Like a ru Dragan. And they realized that the Grandmother had been right, that this had been an exceedingly stupid idea on their part.

"Goodbye, cousins. It's been . . . interesting. Yes, that's the word, interesting. As well as memorable. I know I will remember it for a very long time. It would be best if you did so as well." A long slow smile crossed her face, and Jesson gulped at the sight; it had NOT been a nice smile. 

As one, the three visitors turned and hurried toward the door, not breathing a sigh of relief til they were in their car and headed down the road, and even then, they occasionally cast an uneasy eye in the rear-view mirror and up into the sky. Along with tracing those scratches on their throat, the slight indentations, and shuddering, of course.

Of course, Goniff and Craig had demanded an explanation when they returned, after that big celebratory dinner and the other guys had headed to the pub for a drink. "So, you could have had another chance at the top position, and turned it down again. You're sure, Meghada? You could handle it if anyone could," Craig had asked. "And obviously THEY think you could handle it."

"That's not the point, Craig. I've never wanted it, not the first two times, and certainly not now. And besides, whatever those fools wanted to believe, I'm not eligible." She realized she'd never explained about the Grandmother not Bonding, not ever, and so she told them perhaps more than most would ever know, of the responsibilities, the benefits and the constraints. She'd known there would possibly be blowback, given the characters of the two men, and prepared to hear it now. Craig looked concerned but accepting, but then just sighed and went off to pour them each another drink. Goniff took advantage of the opportunity, and in a low voice questioned her decision in his own way.

"Craig, well, 'e is w'at 'e is, and there don't come no better than that, to my mind. YOU can't do no better. But me? Take a good look, 'Gaida. W'at if I'm never anything more than who, w'at I am, right now? 'Ow are you gonna feel about that, down the road? Giving all that up for me?" 

She looked at him, realizing he was deadly serious, was really asking her this. She tried hard to see this from his vantage point, rather than hers, but was only somewhat successful.

"I could be seriously annoyed at that, you know, if I didn't realize you truly don't know, don't truly understand. Hear me, for I mean this with all my being. If you are never more than who, what you are right now" and her pause matched her gaze, which was long and searching, perhaps overlong for the comfort of the one she was addressing, "if you are never more" her voice tapering off into a whisper not reaching any further than his ear, not less intense or powerful for being a whisper, perhaps even more so. "Never more than the kindest man I've ever met, strong of heart and spirit, loyal, both gentle and fierce as need be. If you are never more loving, more passionate, more caring. If you are never more cunning and tricksey, if you are never more nimble-fingered, never more sly. Never make me laugh more, never warm me more than you do now, as no else ever has. If you are never more than you are right now, I will still consider myself blessed beyond all reason to have you with me, as my friend, as my love, as the center of my being, as my heart-of-hearts, my Ashtore. Why, how could I give all that up, simply to be the Grandmother? Not that it's possible to 'undo' a proper Bonding in the first place, of course. Besides," trying to lighten the mood a little, "do I look like a Grandmother to you??!" 

And his anxious eyes met hers, and slowly the anxiety calmed, and then he smiled, just a little shyly at first, but turning to mischievous within seconds, "well, as long as we are in agreement that I'm worth it," and her reply was less a chuckle than an impassioned sound of something, maybe amusement, maybe agreement, maybe something quite different. It didn't matter. By the time Craig came back with the drinks, the discussion was over.

He looked at them, the expressions on their faces. "Did I miss something important?" he asked with some degree of suspicion.

Goniff grinned with sheer smug satisfaction, "just agreeing that 'er giving up the chance at being the Grandmother was the right thing to do, seeing as 'ow I'm well worth it and all. And as a consolation prize, you're not so bad yourself, Craig," getting a startled laugh from Craig Garrison. 

"A consolation prize? Thanks a lot, Goniff!"

And a drink was shared, and then sharing of a different sort. And whispers in the night, all agreeing on one thing. "Well worth it, without a doubt!"

And the tension within certain parts of the Clan was eliminated when the Grandmother paid a visit to a certain enclave in Scotland, and met, then carried away with her an eighteen year old by the name of Ruena, declared her Heir to the position of Grandmother. Upon hearing the news, Meghada felt only relief in the knowing that the future of the Clan was safer, AND that she'd have no more fools on her doorstep asking her to give up all she'd found, her Ashtore.


	3. Gabrielle's Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to The Cottages by the notorious con-woman Gabrielle Lucien, favorite sister-in-law to Craig Garrison's Uncle Jake, reveals a long-awaited story to the guys.
> 
> Post-war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabrielle story is enclosed by *** *** indicators.

Gabrielle's story is enclosed in *** *** indicators.

There had been a pretty steady stream of visitors to The Cottages - Family, Friends, each come to bid glad welcome to the newcomer, Randall Craig O'Donnell, all not quite five pounds of him. Well, it wasn't often that one of the ru Dragan bore the Clan a child; the ru Dragan were rare to begin with, perhaps one every few generations, and of those, maybe only a quarter, no even less than that, had given the gift of new life to the Clan. Young Randy, with his green eyes and gold-blond hair and wide sweet smile was truly a most treasured gift! 

Gabrielle Lucien, con-woman extraordinaire, former mentor to Meghada, was the latest who came to view, touch and welcome the child. Gabrielle took a long look around the room in preparation for telling the story they'd been petitioning her for ever since her arrival at The Cottages. Even Meghada, who was the subject of the story, was more than a little intrigued to hear it from Gabrielle's point of view. Meghada had been too busy LIVING the story back then to deal with anyone's point of view other than her own. While she had her own memories, she was more than a little curious to hear how Gabrielle had seen the matter. Now, everyone comfortable, baby Randy snug in his mother's arms, she listened as Gabrielle related the whole, sad, funny tale.

*** (Gabrielle's Story)  
The plea from an old friend had been intense and sincere, and that alone was enough to get Gabrielle's full attention. Felane was normally calm, matter of fact, pretty much unshakeable, at least in Gabrielle's experience. After all, their first meeting had been quite a wild ride, complete with a con gone wrong, a vindictive woman thinking Gabrielle was (for some unknown reason!) trying to lure her idiot of a co-conspirator lover, and a totally amused Felane deciding to take a hand in keeping Gabrielle from bleeding out in a Paris salon.

"Gabrielle, I can't tell you how happy I am to see you! I need your help! We're at a loss where to go from here. She's so, what can I say? . . . DIRECT! Painfully BLUNT! And quite willing to use her weapons at a moment's notice! There's no patience, no compromising. It's like flipping a switch, immediately turning from Off to On, full-bore! Not totally berserker, but not so far from it! Yes, I know none of the Clan are meek and mild creatures; I know we wouldn't be capable of 'subtle' in any format or context other than perhaps a spelling bee. But Meghada . . . Gabrielle, it's like she's the reborn image of one of those warriors we pay such homage to in legend! Truly a ru Dragan, as she was named in her spirit quest! Fascinating to read or hear about, of course. Inspirational in so many ways! But for the first time, I'm understanding what their parents must have gone through!"

"We are truly at our wits' end! And the Grandmother is standing back, obviously amused at our delimma! I wonder sometimes if she doesn't consider our daughter her natural successor, but I'm not sure any of us, Meghada included, will survive that long. I'M not sure she'll survive to her Internship, to tell you the truth! She's ten, Gabrielle!" Felane's voice had raised almost to a wail! "Ten! In the past two months, she's run down, on foot mind you, three horse thieves, armed only with a boar spear. No ringing the alarm bell, set in the pasture for that express purpose, no signaling the guard, just away and after them, no matter they may have been armed! They made it to the cliffs and over before she engaged with them, thankfully, other than capturing their horses! Her only comment? "If I hadn't been stuck in long skirts, I'd have CAUGHT them!" Her response to our concern about what might have happened if she HAD?? A blank look, like we're missing the whole point! Her answer to what SHE considers to be the main issue?? She's discarded the skirts, totally, now, in favor of a thigh-length tunic, and there's no making her change back. We send her out in a skirt, we find it draped over the corral rail or somewhere else she found it convenient, her just in her thigh-length tunic! Lupan's suggested compromise of a switch to trousers was the only thing that did seem to appeal to her, and that only, seemingly, as her indulging us."

"She's taken on a neighbor's visiting nephew who decided it was his perogative to try and rape a young farm girl inside their dairy barn - threatened to castrate him, sending him fleeing for his manhood, if not his life. Nevermind she could have just screamed and brought any number of adults to deal with him!"

"She's taken on the avatar of the Red Duchess, without qualms, during a violent dispute not even the bravest were all that eager to get in the middle of, SETTLED it, mind you, and neither side dared oppose her decision. And neither side has taken up hostilities again; they say they have no intention of dealing with HER again! I mean, it's a great honor, the Red Duchess touching her like that, but highly uncomfortable for everyone around her! And there are those saying the Red Duchess left a bit of herself behind inside Meghada, ready to spark at a moment's notice. She's . . ." And the stories continued. 

Gabrielle had to feel both compassion and amusement at Felane's outpourings. For one of the Clan, well used to the unique experiences and individuals therein, to be this distraught, the child in question must be something quite out of the ordinary. For herself, Gabrielle was feeling somewhat bored with her regular activities. And that last little job of hers, admittedly, had thoroughly annoyed the French ambassador's wife and her lover. If she'd KNOWN Louisa had intended to swap out those royal jewels with copies before SHE started to do the same, well, it might have been a different story, but as it was . . . Perhaps a sojourn with Felane and Lupan and their interesting progeny might just prove to be the answer to that boredom and the need to lay low for awhile. Maybe . . .

Their first meeting had not been particularly promising. Meghada, the ten year old in question, was covered in mud, blood, and perhaps other substances Gabrielle wasn't particularly interested in knowing the sources of. The starkly uncompromising cast of the youngster's face and posture wasn't particularly promising either, nor was her blunt explanation, "because he annoyed me." It was a rather uncommunicative explanation as to why eighteen year-old Jeremy Gaither, visitor to the area, had ended up clinging to the cliffs, screaming for help, after encountering the redheaded child. {"No, not a child - I'm not sure what she is, but she's no child"}, Gabrielle thought to herself, looking at that firm self-assurance, those glittering gold-brown eyes. 

Still, she looked on this as a challenge. She could perhaps help this young person who, no matter who or what she was, still had to make her way in this world, help her old friend Felane, and she would most certainly alleviate her current state of boredom in the process. She refrained from snickering at the thought; no, Meghada O'Donnell, no matter what else she might deliver, boredom wasn't likely to be part of the payload!***

 

At that point, Goniff had snickered loudly himself, "'ave to say you 'ad the right of it, Gabrielle. 'Gaida is a w'ole ruddy bunch of things, but she's never been boring, not that I've known of it!" The others seemed to agree, and even Meghada had to admit the truth of that. It seemed to her that she'd never had the TIME for it; there had always been too much that needed doing.

 

*** (Gabrielle's Story)  
"When did she start with . . . Well, you know, being somewhat different than the others?" Gabrielle had asked. 

Lupan had snorted, "about an hour after she was born, if you ask me! Hell, it wasn't like we hadn't gone through this before; Meghada is our fourth, you know. Anything you read, our own experience told us a baby just doesn't really focus their eyes well before eight weeks, maybe longer. Gabrielle, she was tracking us like a rifle sight right from the beginning, making direct eye contact even! And then there was that other little incident! Bevis Devine had stopped in to try and negotiate a deal for hunting our property, something we'd refused to allow him to do for several years since he, unlike some of our neighbors, was a careless hunter, not being too careful where he aimed, or at what, and was just as likely to leave a wounded animal to die in agony rather than to track it properly and putting it out of its misery. We were distracted with the birthing, all in the back room, introducing Meghada to her brothers and sister, (she was just a few hours old at that point, but smiling at all of them, even then!), and he just walks in, makes himself to home like he's family. By the time we can get over the sheer audacity, the sheer stupidity of that, before I can throw him out on his ear, he walks over and reaches out to cluck Meghada under the chin. She HISSED at him, and snapped like she was a snapping turtle. Missed him by a hair!" 

Gabrielle had let out a very feminine laugh, "yes, I'd say she seems a bit different than usual!" She had a feeling she had her work cut out for her. 

Getting the girl talking had been difficult, since she didn't seem to feel the necessity for it, but it had come in time. Getting to learn how her mind worked, that took longer and was often rather disconcerting for Gabrielle. Oh, it wasn't that Meghada was slow of thought, certainly; nor were her thoughts much different from others of the Clan perhaps, it was simply that she never went from A to B to C and so on, Gabrielle discovered. No, she went from A, jumped to K, then to Q, then to Z, somehow internalizing everything that fell in between. That meant, while everyone else was still figuring out what the question was, she'd already arrived at the answer, put the solution into place, and was headed off to the next item of interest, putting the rest firmly behind her. 

When Gabrielle suggested slowing the whole process down so others could keep up with her, the look she'd gotten was priceless. "That makes my head ache, Gabrielle! And besides, it's such a waste of time! Either I'm supposed to figure something out and deal with it, or I'm not; it makes no sense in handcuffing and blindfolding me and putting me in hobbles first!" Gabrielle had to admit there was a certain amount of sense to that, and she really didn't have a good argument to present.***

 

Garrison snorted, "well, that explains a lot! Half the time she loses me enroute with her thinking, with how she approaches a problem. It only makes sense (MAYBE!!) after the fact, when, IF she's willing to explain the whole thing step by step, fill in all the gaps! Remind me to tell you about that little fiasco in Le Havre sometime!" Casino had to add his favorite example, as did the others, and Meghada was turning pink. Gabrielle continued with her story.

 

*** (Gabrielle's Story)  
So, in absence of a way to convince Meghada to slow down her very direct way of approaching things out of consideration of the others around her, Gabrielle introduced the alternative concept of "making things more interesting, more challenging. Perhaps that would be more fun, do you think?". That caught the ten-year-old's attention immediately. So much of what she dealt with was frustrating to her, simply because she found it so easy; she kept trying to deal with the current problem, boring and obvious as it was, as efficiently as possible and then moving on, hoping the NEXT challenge would be more worthy of her attention, only to be disappointed once again. 'Interesting' obviously would be a nice change, even if 'fun' wasn't something she was familiar with nor saw any reason TO be. Surely that was for little kids! Gabrielle sighed a deep internal sigh of relief as she saw that flicker of eager curiosity in the girl's gold-brown eyes. 

Capturing the girl's attention had been a very difficult first step, but once she'd accomplished it, things progressed rapidly. Gabrielle found Meghada had a keen sense of the absurd and an utterly wicked sense of humor, along with a really ferocious (truly DEADLY!!) temper. She had no patience with fools, and she seemed to put a great many people in that catetory, (quite understandably, in Gabrielle's opinion), but seemed to tolerate them better once Gabrielle put her to the task of analyzing them rather than ignoring them or worse; figuring out ways to work around them, ways to influence them, ways to get her point across without actually resorting to any sort of actual 'point', as in a knife or spear. Luckily, it seemed the girl relished the challenge of it all. It also turned out she had the potential for becoming a very accomplished, very nuanced actress. 

Gabrielle had shared that with Felane and Lupan. "She is, already, a warrior; that much is obvious. She is also one of the most natural-born con artists I've ever had the pleasure of coming across! If she decided to take that route professionally, I'd feel I had to take her on as my partner since I don't think I could handle the competition!!" 

While the parents laughed, it was as much with relief as with amusement. They'd watched with hopeful speculation as their daughter no longer automatically leaped into action when confronted by an opponent, no longer just walked out of the room when she found the inhabitants dull or foolish beyond tolerating. She seemed to have a new focus, one that had firmly caught her attention. She interacted with people more, though Lupan was quick to point out to Felane that her objectives hadn't seemed to change, just her methods. Well, that was what the parents had wanted in the first place, an alternative to a knife or boar spear or a quick kick where it would do the most good. They didn't want to change the essential Meghada; the Clan NEEDED such as her, the Sweet Mother had sent her for a purpose; they just wanted to reduce the volatility and potential for premature bloodshed a little. As far as they were concerned, Gabrielle's lessons and advice were having the desired impact.

That was obvious the day Meghada came home and had just said, with a quiet satisfied smile, "I don't think Bevis Devine will be asking to hunt on our land again, Da; seems to have given up on the notion entirely," though not saying much else. 

It was from a neighbor they learned of the horrifying tale Bevis was telling, about the monsters that lived in the lake and woods, "the girl, she came running from there like the devil and all his demons were chasing her. Looked like it too, from what I could see in the shadows; awful things they were, from the looks of it!! Why, that child of theirs was terrified, she was, her what's not afraid of anything! Clung to me like her last hope, shaking to pieces. Told me they weren't the kind of monsters that could be killed or run off, neither, since they were the old ones from before people ever got here. That they were USED to her family, didn't seem to mind THEM, but didn't want anyone else over there. Said there hadn't been any trouble for a long, long time, but now seems someone outside her family had gotten them all stirred up, what with hunting and fishing and messing around over there, and they were very, very angry about it! I'll tell you, after what she described, what I caught a glimpse of, I'm not setting foot over there again. You couldn't PAY me to!! And you best not either! I'm giving fair warning!!" 

Later, Gabrielle, Felane and Lupan had sat her down, had asked, sternly, "monsters? Really??" 

She'd grinned at them, totally pleased with the situation. "Well, the Others were more than eager to help. Da, he's been sneaking in through the boundries more and more, fishing the lake and hunting and setting snares. He's dumped some sort of lure in the water, and it took the naiads acting quickly to keep it from polluting the entire lake; would have sickened the fish and all else that came to drink too! He's come close to wounding more than one of the Others with his mis-aimed shots, caught a wildling in one of his bedamned snares." 

Lupan inhaled sharply; that way lay disaster, for the Others, for the family, probably for all the surrounding neighbors. The Others weren't ones to antagonize without repercussions; the Clan had lived here for a very long time in relative harmony with the Others, with all the different varieties of sentient life around here, giving each other honest respect - it was vital that nothing compromise that relationship. "The wildling . . ." he asked with a great deal of concern. 

"Oh, she is fine; one of the sprites saw and fetched help right away. She is home and safe, with naught but a fright and bruised ankles, and I brought her honey and sweet nuts as a peace offering. Still, it couldn't go on; sooner or later we'd have found Bevis skewered and flayed, laid out on a rock. While I'd weep no tears for the fool, this seemed perhaps a better way all around." 

Lupan stared at her, threw back his head and laughed. So, she wasn't Little Mary Sunshine, that character in a play Neal was toying with, but it did seem she was effective. And she hadn't even had to use a knife! Obviously Gabrielle's lessons had paid off!***

 

Gabrielle glanced over at her former pupil with a fond look, then blinked rapidly since not one, but two sets of eyes looked squarely back at her. Meghada she was expecting, yes. But Randy, what was he, two weeks old? Yet those brilliant green eyes were focused firmly on hers, and something about that look, even that slight smile on that wide mouth, seemed disturbingly familiar. His eyes, yes, she saw Meghada there, in the knowledge there, though the coloring was Craig's. That smile, though, that was Goniff, to the very image. She looked up at Meghada, and caught the sheer amusement in those gold-brown eyes. Yes, here was another who was going to be more than a bit of a challenge to raise!

"Monsters? W'at kind of monsters? Ran into a few of our own, we did, on that little trek through Scotland, and elsewhere too. 'Ave to say, he was right; those, you don't want to mess with; best leave those to Meghada - she knows how to deal with them proper," Goniff expressed earnestly, as if that was the only part of the story he'd caught, hazy blue eyes shining with a vague innocence. 

Meghada had just responded easily, "Plenty of monsters around, laddie, all kinds, just different ways of dealing with them, that's all," and the team remembered a few others she'd dealt with, quite firmly. 

From that look, Gabrielle would have though him rather a simpleton, except for that sly knowing sideways look he gave Meghada immediately after, the twitch to his wide mouth that looked so much like baby Randy's, as if he was only a moment away from laughing. 

Gabrielle remembered all she'd been told of Meghada's new family, her two loves, Goniff Grainger and Craig Garrison. She'd heard about the 'consulting' business Garrison had set up and led, and had come to a few assumptions, some possibly true, but not all. She'd been cautioned by Felane about the first greetings, always so important when dealing with Clan, highly symbolic. If you got THAT right, you were off on the right foot; if you messed it up, well, just better not, not unless you LIKED rebuilding burnt bridges! 

Felane had started, "So, first you greet Meghada; well, she's your hostess and your former pupil. Then . . ." 

"Yes, I know, Meghada, then Craig Garrison as head of the company, and then the rest." 

Felane's eyes widened in alarm and she quickly rejected that idea, "No, No, No, Gabrielle! Please!! This is important! You greet Meghada first, of course. THEN you greet the one who sits at her right hand, her Primary Bondmate and Consort - that's Goniff. Only then do you greet Craig; he is Bondmate to each of them, true, but both of later times, Goniff first, and Meghada later. Anyway, Craig may be the head of the business, but Goniff is above him in hierarchy at The Cottages. Never forget that! HE wouldn't mind your making the wrong assumption, would probably expect it, even find it amusing, perhaps; but believe me, Meghada would mind, and possibly even Craig too. After that, you greet Chief; he is of shaman training, and proper respect of that must be shown. After that, it is your choice." 

She thought now that Goniff might be a rather good con-man on his own; there was no way Meghada would have fallen for a simple, uncomplicated man, no matter how Goniff liked to present himself. And the parents had been quite firm about that, Goniff was her first love in all respects, was the world to her, and in their minds, quite worthy of being so. For her family to see it that way, that was the final piece of the puzzle. No, Gabrielle thought, taking another look; she'd not take this man at face value. 

She glanced over to see the amusement on Garrison's face; somehow, she knew he'd been aware of what she'd been thinking, and the amused nod he'd given her told her he was agreeing with her, one hundred percent. Such strange people, all con artists of one sort of another, such an unusual group; almost felt like home, it did. Yes, that was it, she felt totally comfortable with them all, right at home.

"Why does he do it? Is it a game?" she ventured to softly ask Garrison later, when they moved together to refill their glasses. Garrison knew what she meant, snorted, and gave a smile that had amusement, resignation and a touch of sadness to it. 

"Partly. He does find it amusing, I think. But more, it's one of the tools he developed early on, partly defensive, protective camouflage, partly offensive, since it tends to make him inconspicuous, seem harmless, less of a threat; it's a tool that works very well for him. He saved our lives during the war with it, more than once; got him in a position to protect us, though he almost got himself killed doing it on more than one occasion. I think he doesn't let it go, set it aside, because he thinks it just might come in handy one of these days, and I can't say he's wrong. He practices it, like just a little while ago, just like we all still work out on the obstacle course, still practice on the firing range, all the rest. You don't just discard a good weapon; even if you never need it again, it's good to keep it in good order and close at hand." 

Gabrielle nodded in full understanding; well, she did much the same with her own skills, her own tools. They returned to their seats, and she continued her tale.

 

***Gabrielle's Story  
"So, Gabrielle. It's been six months. What do you think? Is she ready to handle it all once you're gone?" The question was more than a rhetorical one; while Meghada now exhibited more measured responses, had developed new methods of dealing with people and issues, how she would act once Gabrielle had departed was a concern to the parents. 

"I think she'll do quite well. She finds it all, well, amusing, challenging, you know. She's still going to be more than a handful, but I think you'll see more her talking rings around her opponents, 'playing' them, working a con, out-thinking them, rather than using more violent methods. Unless, of course, those more violent methods really are the best solution, and sometimes that IS the case, you know. I gave her a few new tools, perhaps taught her how to better utilize the skills and talents she already has, that's all. She's still Meghada ru Dragan, just as your Sweet Mother intended her to be. And I did mean it, about partnering with her. When she wants a break, I'd not mind her spending some time with me. We just might find a few things of mutual interest to pursue."***

"And did ya? Ever partner with her, I mean," Casino asked. 

Gabrielle and Meghada shared a grin and a laugh, "well, sort of. You see, there was this Renaissance necklace in the National Museum in Brussels. . . 

They listened and Garrison let out a low groan. "I'm pretty sure I was better off not knowing about that little adventure! Meghada, you didn't mention that the last time we were in Brussels! Are there any outstanding warrants I need to know about before our next trip??" 

Gabrielle puckered up, pretending to be offended, answered for the both of them, "hardly, my dear sir. 'Warrants' assumes anyone was any the wiser! I assure you, the copy we left in its place was impeccable! In fact, the latest museum catalogue shows a lovely picture of it!" 

That brought a earnest burst of laughter from Actor; he'd seen the piece during his last trip thru the museum and it had certainly seemed authentic to HIM. Next time he visited, he'd have to pay more attention.

They were undressing, getting ready to slide into that oversized bed she'd had custom-made so long ago, soon after Craig had joined them. "Said you were a rare 'andful, your father, I mean, back w'en I first met 'im. Seems 'e wasn't telling the w'ole of it. Course, we 'eard some from Rhorie and Dolly, back at the pub. Don't see why your parents were so worried, though. Seems there would 'ave been plenty of people in the Clan to lend a 'and with 'elping you get it all sorted out," Goniff puzzled. 

Meghada gave a rueful chuckle, "aye, well, laddie. Hearing stories of the ru Dragan, reading about them in the Clan histories. That's a different matter than trying to deal with one in your own household, especially one who'd not yet figured out how it was all supposed to work, especially when you've other children not so . . . Well, burdened? Blessed? There's many who'd debate which word fits best, and there's been many a time I don't know which side I'd have taken in the debate."

"There was a time, long ago, perhaps it wouldn't have been so difficult. But there are so few of us now, perhaps no more than one every few generations; so few, we have to rely only on the books and scrolls and spoken memory of times past. And being one of the ru Dragan, it's not so simple, you know?? You can feel the power, you know you can so easily eliminate those who anger, offend, even just annoy you, and the urge to do just that is SO very strong. There were many of my kind who disappeared into the mists, perhaps because they were afraid to be near those they cared for, for fear of them being caught in the backlash of their rage. Of course, some just got weary of the voices, the bodies pressing in so closely." 

Her voice got softer, whispery, while her face grew haunted, "I remember, sometimes it was as if those around me were using up all the air, so that I couldn't breathe. That's one of the reasons I searched out a place of my own; I loved my family, make no mistake, but . . . " 

She came to herself, away from her musings, to see the concern in those two pair of eyes, blue and green, and smiled reassuringly, warmth evident in her gaze. "I'm one of the lucky ones. My parents were canny enough to seek help, Gabrielle was willing to lend me her wisdom and teach me ways to cope." Her eyes warmed, grew rich with a feeling beyond words as she looked into those blue ones she loved so much, "You, laddie . . . You were strong enough, you CARED enough to tame the dragon, to help me find in your arms, your voice, your body a warm comfort, not a threat". 

Her eyes shifted to Craig's, "and you were generous enough not to try and take him from me, even when you had the power to perhaps do so, was willing to instead share his warmth, not seek to keep it solely for your own. I can never tell you what that meant to me! You were kind enough to bring me your own warmth in time, out of love for him. Aye, I am far luckier than most of my kind," she said, looking once more at the raised cradle in the corner where their son slept. "Truly has the Sweet Mother blessed me!" She dropped her robe to the dressing table chair, turned down the light, and let their warmth surround her, let her rejoice in being one of the ru Dragan who had been truly blessed.


End file.
